A Call to Arms
by WriterKos
Summary: Ducky invites the team to a special event in his homeland, Scotland.


_**Title: A Call to Arms  
Author: WriterKos  
Rating: FR13  
Parings: none  
Characters: Ducky and the team  
Genres: Character Study, Drama.  
Warnings: Music overdose**_

_**Summary: Ducky invites the team to a special event in his homeland, Scotland. To Patsy and Scotland.**_

_a/n: Oh God, I'm a wuss. I'm crying as I'm typing this. I love Scotland. I love the land and its people but I have a particular fond place in my heart to its music. There's something about a lone fiddle playing a wailing tune or the haunting song played by bagpipes that fascinates me. So I was feeling a little nostalgic here and came up with this._

_Dedication: Patsy, this is for you. For Scotland and everything that's beautiful in the land that gave me the most awesome birthday ever. Before Scotland I was just a child pretending to be an adult. Scotland separated my childish dreams from my present adult reality. And may the road rise up to meet you and the sun be always on your back. Semper fi._

* * *

The summer sky was a fading shade of blue as night soon approached; bringing with it a soft breeze from the sea which, just like a naughty child, lifted the skirts of the ladies and messed up with their hairdos carefully prepared for the evening event about to unfold.

The crowd moved in an organized mess guided by the easily identified guards to their assigned seats on the platforms placed along the Royal Mile just at the entrance of the Edinburgh Castle. They were all eager to see one of the most amazing shows of precision, music and dedication of the face of the earth.

The low clouds in the sky did nothing to deter the enthusiasm boiling deep down in the visitors, most from outside of the city and not even Scottish, but all present to see the grace and proud of the nation displayed in all its loud glory.

For some small miracle, Director Vance had granted the MCRT a week off after an awful case and, as Ducky's birthday was coming along, he invited his friends for a 'small' trip across the pond to his beautiful land, Scotland, so he could show them the sights and watch the Military Tattoo in the mild summer days of August.

It took a little bit of convincing of Ducky's part and death threats from Abby's to convince Tony to give up on his planned trip, but Ziva and McGee jumped at the opportunity of seeing the show they both had seen only pictures and some youtube videos.

Gibbs was another one who took a little bit of convincing, but once Ducky mentioned that there was a marine platoon of musicians specially invited to be part of the show he was hooked to the idea.

That's how Ducky, Ziva, McGee, Tony and Gibbs ended up running after Abby in all her kilt glory in the narrow corridors to their assigned spot, eager to watch the show.

They took their seats and looked at the excited people sitting around them, Gibbs' trained eye immediately identifying the Queen's guard in civilian clothing from the normal visitors. There were people from all places of the world, each bringing their own enthusiastic expectations to the show they were about to see.

Shortly after he sat down, Tony immediately noticed and was noticed by three tourists a couple of rows down, who turned to smile at him and wave, their blonde heads getting together so they could whisper to each other.

"I like this place already," He muttered, smiling as one of then turned to him and, catching him staring at her, blushed and giggled, before turning to speak to her friend.

"Could you at least once pay attention to the show, instead of sniffing skirts around everywhere you go?" Ziva hissed as she pinched his arm, earning a yelp from him.

"The show hasn't started yet." He pouted.

"But it's about to, so I suggest you to keep your eyes on the drawbridge. That's where they are coming." Ducky said, feeling his heart fluttering as the introductions of the show were made and the steady sound of marching started to be heard over the roaring sound of the Scottish winds.

_"Welcome to the Edinburgh Military Tattoo!"_

Ziva and Abby leaned forward to watch the gorgeously clad musicians coming out of the Edinburgh Castle, dressed in bright red uniforms, marching in unison and playing their instruments, the thrilling moment when the gate finally opens and the faint sound of the bagpipes started coming into their direction.

Gibbs smiled one of his rare smiles as the musicians loudly played their bagpipes, the haunting sound filling the summer night. He was aware that each different band represented one regiment, either from Scottish armed forces or from somewhere like Canada, US, Cameroon, and even one from Australia. To his military mind, the precision of their marching was fascinating, especially considering that they had to play that loud buzzing thing at the same time they counted their steps.

They marched and played.

They played and marched.

Tunes came and went, the notes coming up and down, melodies sometimes were known to the people in the gallery who would clap to the sound of the reel or, when they knew the lyrics. they would sing along.

They played _The Return of the Stone, Hot Punch, The Bugle Horn, Macdonald's Awa' to the Wars, Bonnie Dundee, _andseveral others, their tunes mixing to each other and bringing the audience to an elevated level of awareness of the importance of this tradition.

To the sound of the sound of these songs millions of men had marched into battle for thousand years, either called by their clan leaders or, later on, by the call of their Kings and Queens. The bagpipe soon became a symbol of call-to-arms, making each soldier feel goosebumps as its sound filled the air, ready to die for their country and land and family.

There were small shows in between the potpourris of songs, some people would come and introduce this and that personality watching the show, always in the heavy brogue of Scots, scratching the untrained ears of the American agents.

Yet to Ducky whose eyes had filled with tears as the band took position and finished a song which brought the house down, everyone clapping enthusiastically, it was simply _home_.

Gulping emotionally, he glanced towards the direction where the Royal couple was in their specially designed booth, the Queen standing and clapping to the musicians, and he felt that this was _Scotland_. His home. His Land.

As the showman made the introduction of another song, Ducky had to swipe his tears as the combined bands started to play Highland Cathedral, the soloists playing the well-known tune he held dear to his heart and was one of his mother's favorites till the end.

As the whole band joined in the main melody, people stood up, answering the irresistible calling of the bagpipes, unable to keep sitting as the tune filled the night. Fireworks filled the air as the last bars of the song rang, making everyone clap.

The show continued for forty minutes and yet none of them felt the time fly by, and when the drums started to sound the last song of the Grand Finale, the Guard of Honor came marching through the ranks from the back to the front of the parade.

The agents clapped with the public, following the rhythm of the music, aware that the show was about to end. The first Sergeant ordered the Guard of Honor to present their guns, which they made with precision. They still played a couple of bars before the Hymn started to play, uniting every one into song.

_"God saves our gracious Queen…"_

Abby gave a sidehug to Ducky, who was singing along without bothering to wipe his tears anymore, before glancing at Ziva, Tony and McGee, who were all looking with soft expression on their faces to the parade, enchanted to the show they had just seen.

_"God save the Queen!"_

Finally all voices joined together with bagpipes, drums and brass, loudly proclaiming the melody of an old melody that even the Americans knew, despite their stumbling here and there in one word or another.

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_

_and never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_

_and days of auld lang syne?_

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_

_for auld lang syne,_

_we'll take a cup of kindness yet,_

_for auld lang syne._

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_

_and never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_

_and days of auld lang syne?_

_And here's a hand, my trusty friend_

_And gie's a hand o' thine_

_We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet_

_For auld lang syne_

And may the pipes never become silent as long as there are battles are yet to be fought. And wherever justice may seem forgotten, may brave men and women still hear the call to arms of a bagpipe played by agile hands, touching ready hearts with agile minds.

The end.


End file.
